


Sunny Side Up

by knotcricket



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Food Porn, M/M, Ramsay is his own warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1749671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knotcricket/pseuds/knotcricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breakfast with the Boltons</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunny Side Up

Reek hobbled up the steps counting under his breath as he went. With the wide steel platter held in front of him he couldn’t see the stairs and the frosty morning air numbed his feet into raw slabs that could betray him at any moment. Fortunately he knew the number of stairs to his master’s door by heart. 

When he reached the door he paused. He had tried to keep it propped open when his master had sent him to fetch breakfast but either the wind had blown it shut or his master had closed it to test him. It must have been the wind he insisted to himself. 

But it was a test, intended or not. He could barely hold the tray up under the weight of his master’s breakfast. The kitchen thralls had been trained not to disappoint Ramsay, especially not first thing in the morning. They sent up every possible variation of food he could want knowing that he also liked to have a little extra to distribute to his favourites when he had finished. And gods help them all if there wasn’t enough or if they failed to anticipate his cravings. 

With only three fingers left on his right hand, Reek could not support the weight of the tray from below. He adjusted his grip so that he was pinching the side of the tray and could free up his other hand for the brief second it took to push the door open. 

The tray tottered as he pushed through the door and Reek scrambled to get his other hand under it and steady himself before it spilled. He rushed towards the table as he felt the weight of the tray overpowering his frail arms but he was able to steal a quick look at his master before he got there. 

It was not encouraging. Ramsay was seated and was busying himself opening a napkin over his lap but Reek could tell he was only pretending to be occupied with the task. He was acutely aware of Ramsay tracking his every twitch, shuffle, eye movement, breath even. 

And he had dark bags under his eyes. Red rims. He hadn’t slept well. And possibly one of his headaches was coming on. Dark things came with those headaches and Reek found himself squeaking involuntarily as he set the tray on the table and then jumped back as far as he dared. 

Ramsay caught his wrist before he was out of reach though and pinned it to the table. 

“Reek…” he said, drawing out the name and then falling silent until he got a response. 

“Y-yes, m’lord,” he mumbled his eyes shifting rapidly from the parts of his master’s face he had permission to look at, to the tray, to his wrist searching desperately for his transgression. 

“Did I order your grubby, shit-stained thumb for breakfast?” Ramsay posed the question with a smile but his grip tightened. 

“No, sorry m’lord… I’m sorry m’lord… another one… I’ll run…” It all poured out but he knew better than to think it would make any difference. He had learned not to offer excuses but had not yet discovered a way to divert his master once he got his teeth into something. 

“Then what it is doing on my plate?” Ramsay asked ignoring the offer to fetch another tray. 

He froze in panic, unable to do anything but gurgle and try to pull the offending digit back but his master wasn’t allowing it. 

“What’s that Reek?” His master released Reek’s wrist and cupped his hand around his ear. Reek pulled the hand behind his back and struggled to catch enough breath to respond. Ramsay waited, his eyes drilling screws into his hapless thrall. 

“I’m so sorry, m’lord. I’ll fetch another one right away.” 

“But I don’t want another one Reek.” There was another long pause as Ramsay considered the situation and Reek’s world shrunk into the struggle not to piss himself. 

“Do you know how hard I try, Reek? How much thought I put into what we’re doing here?”

“Yes, m’lord.” 

“Then why doesn’t it work?” Ramsay asked pushing the tray to the far end of the table, springing to his feet and beginning to circle around Reek. “Maybe I’m the stupid one, is that the problem?”

“No, m’lord.” 

“But I’m starting to think that it is. Maybe you know what’s best.”

“I don’t m’lord.”

And a second later Reek’s chest slammed into the table hard enough to knock his breath away. His master’s fist was curled around a bunch of ragged shirt between his shoulder blades and as he spoke Ramsay twisted it, pulling the shirt over his head and off his arms. 

“This is exactly what I mean. Weeks and weeks and weeks of tedious, painstaking training and still you contradict me any time it pleases you.”

“Please m’lord, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“And what have I said about the word please.”

“Not. To don’t. I’m sorry,” Reek sobbed. 

“No, Reek. I think you’re right. I think you’ve got it all figured out,” Ramsay chirped as he yanked his servant’s britches down. 

Reek trembled uncontrollable and tried to turn to see where his master was but Ramsay shoved him back flat against the table and then whispered in his ear “if any part of you comes off this table, even by a hair’s breadth, I’ll have Alyn shove a poker up your ass and roast you alive. We overdid the farm boys, but with you we’d stop while you were still nice and pink and juicy.”

Reek sobbed but kept himself plastered against the sticky planks of the table. Ramsay was circling him again, considering. 

“Yes, you could be on to something Reek. Maybe everything does taste a little better with some of your filth on it.” 

He couldn’t see but he could feel his master shifting the contents of the tray onto his naked back. Strips of bacon, sausages, toast, a warm pile of eggs. The heat was almost comforting for a mad second and then Ramsay crossed around again to his chair, sat down and picked up his knife and fork. 

He sliced deep into one of the sausages, deep into Reek beneath it and then deftly swept the slice up into his mouth before the blood oversauced it. Reek whimpered more with terror than with pain and slid his arms along the surface of the table to grip the edge knowing that the struggle to remain prone would only intensify. 

After half a dozen more slices of sausage, Ramsay pronged at the bacon judging every flinch for signs of disobedience. When none appeared, he sighed and chewed thoughtfully looking out the window. He stood, crossed the room and slammed the shutters closed. The morning light was irritating him. 

“Do you think that’s enough Reek?” 

“I don’t know, m’lord. I don’t know anything,” he wheezed hopelessly. 

“I’m looking for opinions, not facts,” Ramsay said swinging his fork around until it pointed at Reek. “Even a wretched specimen such as yourself is entitled to its opinion.”

He lowered his face towards Reek’s and tilted his head until they were eye to eye. 

“In your opinion, was that enough?” 

There was no right answer, so Reek stammered out another “I…d’d’don’t know m’lord.” 

He could see the veins throbbing in his master’s neck but then several beats later, Ramsay smiled and set the knife down next to Reek’s arm. 

“I don’t know either,” Ramsay mused sitting back in his chair. “For ruining my breakfast and then arguing with me about it to my face…”

“Is it stupidity or defiance? I don’t know anymore. Does it really matter?” He stood up again, slapping Reek on the shoulder blade as he rose. 

He leant over to examine the rows of fresh slices on Reek’s back. “I imagine that would have hurt a lot more if the food had been hot. Bacon grease, sausage fat.”

“Yes, m’lord” Reek mumbled into the table. 

“It’s a shame you’re so useless you can’t bring a tray up a flight of stairs without it going cold.” 

Reek could feel his master leaning over him to take something else off the tray and shivered. He realized it was one of the soft-boiled egg when Ramsay began rolling it around on his lower back and then split it in half over the top of his crack. He could feel the warm yolk trickling into his crevice. 

“No I think you might need a bit more,” and Ramsay shoved the full length of his shaft, slickened by the egg, into Reek’s backside. 

Reek’s knuckles whitened as he strained to hold himself down and his mouth worked soundlessly, expressing an agony beyond screams. 

After the initial thrust, Ramsay paused, picking bits of toast off Reek’s back and munching them philosophically while Reek squirmed around him. The crunching set Reek’s teeth on edge even more than the penetration itself. 

When he finished the toast, Ramsay settled into his business. His hands shifted between Reek’s shoulders and upper arms supported his weight as he bore down again and again pausing in his rhythm only for the occasional sip of cider. 

His breath grew irregular, and then his pace, spurts of furious thrusting followed by brief respites where he would lay on Reek’s back and ruffle his hair before rising to continue. 

He came with a howl and then a fit of laughter. As he pulled back, he slapped Reek rapidly down both sides before ending with a sharp spank across his flushed ass. 

“That should do it,” he said, still half-panting but beginning to blink back sleepiness. He plunged his hands into the cool basin and began to work them back and forth. 

“What a mess,” he added with a yawn, standing back to survey the scene. 

“You’d better hurry and clear this away. It’s almost time for lunch.”


End file.
